Lights, Camera, Omega - Page 106

“You know I do.” I can hear the warmth in Sol’s voice, even through the phone.

I take a deep breath in through my nose and let it slowly out my mouth to control my nerves.

“So, I take it we’ll see you on the tarmac at three?” I ask, doing my best not to hold my next breath in anticipation.

“Yeah, Daphne, Sol, and I gotta pack up—then we’ll call for a car to the airstrip. I’ll give you a ring when we’re on the way,” he confirms, exhaustion creeping into his voice.

“Thanks Sol, Magnus and I both owe you more than one.” I do my best to convey my gratitude without being able to look him in the eyes.

“You better fucking believe it,” Sol laughs mirthlessly. I laugh too.

“I love you Cosmo,” he says softly, tenderly before adding, “but you better not fuck this up,” he warns, an edge in his voice—playful but unmistakably there.

“I love you too Solomon Cooper. I plan to give you all my absolute best.”

Magnus and I each ask the stewardess of the private jet for a shot of vodka before Daphne and the others arrive—followed by a pair of filthy martinis—just in case.

When Daphne walks through the open door atop the gangway stairs—her eyes are wide and starry as she cranes her neck to get a look at the private jet’s luxurious interior.

“I don’t know if I’m ever going to get used to stuff like this,” she whispers, as much to herself as the rest of us—her tiny stuttering steps slowing nearly to a stop as she takes in her surroundings.

“As much as I hate to admit it, it’s easier than you think.” Sol pipes up from behind as he saunters aft from the front of the plane.

“Especially the private jets—it’s going to sound so snooty but going back to commercial air travel is nearly impossible afterwards,” Julian agrees, bringing up the rear; the pilot darts out of the cockpit to help detach the gangway and pull the entrance hatch shut.

Though everyone is playing together nicely enough, the atmosphere is decidedly chillier than I would have liked.

Blessedly, the stewardess makes her rounds to make sure everyone is settled comfortably and taking drink orders from the recently arrived trio.

We sit in strained silence while the young woman in her modest skirt suit wrestles open a tiny carton of orange juice for Daphne, serves Julian a hot tea, and mixes a Bloody Mary for Sol.

I sweat against the backdrop of quiet sipping and the tinkle of ice cubes against the wall of Sol’s highball glass.

The captain makes the announcement over the intercom that we’ve reached a safe cruising altitude, and that we should arrive at our destination; Teterboro Airport, just outside of New York City, on time.

Daphne’s head whips around, her eyes finally finding mine.

“Cosmo, don’t you think it’s time to tell us all exactly what this is about?” she presses, her hands balled into anxious fists in her lap.

“I promise you, it won’t be long now,” I assure her as we turn into a bank of clouds.

Miraculously, Mangus and I are able to stretch Daphne, Julian, and Sol’s good will all the way to the black limousine that waits outside the boutique luxury hotel where we have stashed our luggage, before I rush everyone into black tie, shepherding the five of us into the penthouse elevator and to the long shining black car waiting in the hotel turnaround.

At her wits end, Daphne bats Julian’s hands away as he fusses with the single shoulder of the peony-pink satin and silk georgette gown he’s fashioned for her—her dangling diamond earrings making little clattering sounds as she flaps around in frustration.

“Alright—this is fucking crazy,” she hisses, pointing an accusatory finger at Magnus and I.

“What the hell is going on here—where are you taking us, you said you were going to show us something that you couldn’t quite tell—but this is beyond fucking ridiculous!” she shrills, her eyes wide and sparkling with rage.

“I still don’t know exactly where we’re going,” Magnus admits.

“I’ve decided to trust Cosmo,” he shrugs.

I’m grateful for his support, but Daphne doesn’t seem convinced.

“Oh, isn’t that nice for you. You took off the other night, you sent a greenhouse to the nest and suddenly everything is metaphorically coming up roses for you?” Daphne tosses her hands into the air. Sol and Julian sit, tight lipped and square jawed on either side of her, similarly unimpressed.

“Let’s take it one thing at a time,” Magnus does his best to soothe her, his voice low and soft.